


What I Would Give to Apologise the Right Way.

by shroomdeer



Series: Heartbreak [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lots of Crying, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Post-Break Up, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, hxh - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shroomdeer/pseuds/shroomdeer
Summary: (formerly ‘Gravity’).After a relationship that lasted two fruitful years, Killua has been left with a breakup text from Gon. Three months after said text, Killua's going through the motions of coping with post-breakup depression. He's sure he's going mental, that is until he gets a message from his ex-boyfriend to meet up and talk things through. And he's not sure why he agrees.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Series: Heartbreak [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096736
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86





	What I Would Give to Apologise the Right Way.

Killua stares down at the chest under his bed - the half-assed painted thing about the size of a small trunk, not very heavy judging by its size considering how much crap had been collecting in its belly the past couple years. Inside were digested memories of sleeping under the stars and a string of correspondences from a 5,000+ mile gap.

His toes curl into the rug. His chest is an empty vessel with one cancerous lump throbbing inside, feeding on his temptation to reach under and peer into the trunk. Palm’s reminded him time and time again to leave it alone - burn it, even. That was three months ago and it still reigns the floor underneath his usually sleeping corpse.

Killua’s fingers trace the corners of his leather diary, worn from overuse, contemplating. He knows not to abide his cat-like curiosity, he _knows._ But it still doesn’t stop him from slipping away from his desk chair, lugging out the trunk, and yanking back the lid. It’s a lot more anticlimactic than he imagined. All that sleeps inside are photographs and crumpled letters embedded inside over-loved envelopes; torn and frayed at the corners.

His fingers tuck into the wreckage of assortments and brings a small bracelet out into the gentle light of the afternoon, it rolls down into the centre of his palm. It’s been well-worn; tufted where the chord is tied to the opposing one. Crowning the main bridge are an assemblage of jade beads; getting slightly bigger as they meet in the middle. The light streaming in from the single-glazed windows catches in the eye of the central bead, giving it that familiar feeling of comfort so foreign to him now, two years down the line. His thumb caresses it. There should be a joining bracelet to go with it - a topaz twin of this one. He never really asked for it back. He doesn’t _want_ it back, having it so would leave an impression he _really_ doesn’t want to be left thinking about. And God help him if he finds it in the mail one day.

Something prickles his nape; a cold, subtle presence. He closes his palm.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at college?”

“Hah, sorry bro,” Alluka leans against the doorframe. She eyes her brother as he’s kneeling at the trunk he’d so valiantly declared to ignore. “Do my eyes deceive me? Is my brother caving into his urges?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You should be thinking about getting back to college, otherwise Candace will find out all about your-”

“Alright! I give in. For now. But seriously, you shouldn’t be looking in there. The last time you did you ended up refusing to eat for ages.”

Killua scoffs. “Yeah well if you don’t skedaddle soon then I won’t be buying you that car you wanted.”

She seems to get the picture as she turns swiftly, slinging her backpack up from her feet and heading to the front door, calling back a quick ‘see you later’ before disappearing into the hallway. Killua watches from the corner of his eye. They live in a small, dingy little apartment complex in the city of Belhiemn. It’s far from a dream home but it’s a roof over their heads until Killua manages to catch another errand, however most of their money went to Alluka’s education, food, rent and necessities for each month. It’s been so long that Killua barely remembers how they ended up like this in the first place. He doesn’t _want_ to remember. He’s been sticking to the idea of looking ahead for a reason.

Killua puts back the bracelet with care. He studies the innards of the trunk one last time before he locks it away and pushes it as far as it’ll go beneath his cot, at least until he can hear it bash against the skirting board. He waits for the air to return to his lungs before he can retreat into the corner kitchen and make himself a hot coco. Damn, does he need a break.

It wasn’t always like this. If you’d ever believe it, there were better days - better than the one Killua was currently having. Days where he’d wake up early; shower; hawk down what breakfast he could scramble up; and call his best friend. Well, it was complicated.

He and Gon were technically dating after several years of denial and separation. After about half a year of meeting up for coffee and finding time to hang out like normal young adults, they’d decided to mutually forward things in a new direction. That was after a drunken night full of confessions, tear-sodden faces and a heavy make-out. It was weird enough holding Gon’s hand when they were in private. It was still very alien to Killua even when they _did_ confirm the relationship. He remembers inviting him around to watch a movie and Alluka walking in from her classes in a shock. “So you’re finally dating?” was her magnificent entry line. He’ll never forget how red their faces grew. Their first _proper_ kiss was under the protectful gaze of the moon one stormy night in the sheets; where the rain would mask the gentle cusp of their lips greeting. And after that it became very hard not to kiss each other when it suited. Gon would sometimes risk one in public and it’d annoy Killua to the point that he’d deliberately lose him in a store and wait for his phone to buzz violently in his back pocket, then met with all the apologies in the world. They’d laugh it off afterwards and kiss some more under the duvet without making it too suffocating.

All of that came to a saddening halt three months ago. It was apparent that they still had room to grow. There were issues with their relationship that they failed to address, which led to many, many lonely nights crying into his pillows and screaming into the silence when no-one was around. He’d linger at traffic lights and watch the cars pass in a frenzied hurry to go, go, go, and for a moment he’d think about stepping into the onslaught. He’d catch himself dazing out on some of the part-time jobs he’d applied for to keep himself occupied (it obviously didn’t work). There was a slip-up on a rainy night, dunk on the sidewalk where he met his first one-night-stand. Many of the flittering relationships he _had_ with his co-workers were quick. He was avoided a lot. Nobody really wants to hang around somebody after a severe breakup, do they? It was a concerning element for Killua’s closer friends. Ikalgo dropped by when he could, accompanied by Palm on some nights. Right, the nights. They were the hardest. Nights are always the hardest. Alluka’s tried her best to smooth things out, paying Killua visits after lights-out to let him sob into her shoulder under the sheets. He greatly appreciated her support, however silent it may have been. Killua was embarrassed and ashamed to cry in front of his sister, but Gods was he grateful.

Then there were the days where he’d stare into his ceiling, stay up ridiculously late and wake up at noon. Alluka wasn’t happy about that - it was the first physical toll it was taking on her brother. She’d come back from classes and see him at the table, bedhead on display, eating merely a spoonful of cereal. Alluka didn’t want to force him to eat, she knew how grouchy he could get. He only seemed to eat when they had company, so she brought her friends around as often as possible just to see him have half a pizza.

For Killua, it’s like going through hell and back again; walking on hot coal; having a stake burst into his chest and come out the other end. He didn’t entirely understand how such a thing could diminish him to a suicidal wreck. Things happen, I guess.

❖

He stares down at the sodas in the refrigerator, mulling over which high-sugar drink he could down in one sitting to keep him _somewhat_ active during the hours in which he spent alone. One has to get creative when they’re with their own company, now and again. As of now, Killua has no care of the risks he gets into; he’s gone past that line well and truly, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t see it through.

_Dingly-ding-ding!_

He hears the grocery shop door sing its trillionth song. It falls numb on his shoulders and he continues to skim along the rows of energy drinks.

_Hi! Can I help you?_

Every cell in Killua’s body stiffens. The hairs on the back of his neck stand erect, a cold shiver taking the trip down his spine. He knows that voice. That voice that plagues him so much; that voice that could get him to surrender; that voice that could make him feel so loved.

He turns and peers around an aisle. The cashier is right next to the entrance. Just the middle-aged woman who greeted him just a few minutes prior. Two kids grin and race into the sweet aisle. The shock dwindles and he’s left with an uncomfortable sweat that sticks to his skin.

Great. Now he’s hearing voices. Terrific. Maybe it’s finally getting to the point where he’ll be driven insane by his broken heart.

He doesn’t mention it to Alluka when he returns home; three empty cans in his lap. She doesn’t complain about the energy drinks but Killua can see the worrisome look she passes.

❖

There’s an errand Killua finally has, though he isn’t excited; it’s a request from Alluka to pick up a parcel from the drop-off point in town that requires going through the subway. Apparently there was a complication over their location. That was good. Killua didn’t exactly want his whereabouts known to a living soul.

The underground is cold and sapped of colour. You don’t get any better for a city subway, unfortunately. First of all, most of the people stink rotten and the stench of fast food doesn’t exactly help - add that with a dash of dampness. These are living situations suited for Ging Freecss.

The noise is tolerable. There’s an old man playing accordian next to the ticket booth. He wishes more people would play music (not that shit on the radio) in public, there’s nothing wrong with hearing a bit of harmonica every once in a while, even a bit of jazz down the street. Would certainly liven the place up.

“Sorry,” a muffle crashes into his shoulder as a force tilts his body back, a low grumble of a sigh that reeks of bad breath and garlic. Killua doesn’t respond. Usually he’d get quite cocky about it but right now he has no emotional strength to deal with such a minor incident, so it slides easily from the growing weight on his shoulders. Yet as his eye briefly diverts from the gum-smeared ground to the crowd, he settles on a figure that is unwanted.

_It’s really for the best, Killua._

A blink and it’s gone -- the one he once kissed under the clouds in the comfort of his bedroom, limbs that brushed and sighs that clashed and eyes that met.

A woman asks him if he’s okay and he responds with an empty glance.

❖

He must be going crazy. That’s the only logical thing he can think of as he’s watching an episode of Thug County with Alluka, who’s munching on a bowl of nachos doused in melted cheese. Maybe it’s really getting to that stage where he’s hellbent on Gon’s ghost settling in his shadow. And what if he blabs about this to her, huh? She’ll bug him into going into those useless blind dates again. Half of the men and women he had were… not his type. Not _Gon_.

“No, no, don’t do that!”

Killua eyes his sister. She’s wiggling her legs, fixated on the screen.

“I’m heading to bed,” he says as he makes himself scarce. He hears her whine very loudly, muting the television.

“Aw, already? But it’s getting to the good part! Don’t you wanna see if Detective Brann finds out about the bent copper?”

He replies with a lazy chuckle and a wave goodnight.

Killua lays in his bed wide-awake, yanking his earbuds away. Any more of his Sleepy Piano playlist and he’ll end up crying again. Everything reminds him of Gon. Even the food he looks at, or catches the scent of -- _everything_ . He contemplates his sanity whilst counting the stars blinking at him outside his window. Killua doesn’t feel like sleeping. He can’t. He doesn’t _want_ to, not night after night of nightmares. His dream-catcher isn’t doing its job properly, that’s for sure. He doesn’t know why he even believes in those things anyway, it’s so childish. And he hates how every memory in his lifetime comes back to whisper in his ear during the night.

_You know, you glow really brightly during the night, and during the summertime, too._ Gon muttered on a clear-skied night. Killua remembers the devil’s grin shining even brighter, blushing as Gon traced his sharp jawline.

_You’ve said that a dozen times, Gon._

_I know, I know, but… you really do. You’re like an angel or something. Hey, do you ever think of getting married?_ Gon’s eyes seemed to sparkle upon questioning Killua, and it made the transmuter quiver in his own shell.

_I dunno. Maybe. It sounds nice. I don’t see the need to legally confirm our relationship when we’re already confirmed enough. As long as… you know what I mean._ Killua averted his gaze, but Gon followed.

_As long as what?_

_As long as…_ Killua felt his face flush darker and darker with each second. _As long as we both… love each other, and are together. Marriage shouldn’t have to bind us as one. What? Why’re you grinning at me like that for?_

_You’re so cute, Killua._ Killua shrivelled into himself as Gon slathered a million kisses down his neck. Killua chuckled and told him to stop because it tickled. _So you wouldn’t be mad if I asked you to marry me?_ Gon asked a little softer.

_No… not at all._

_Would you be happy with me?_

Killua lost himself in Gon’s gaped eyes, swallowed in their rich galaxies.

_Yeah, I think I would._

“God, fuck this.” Killua bares his fists and rolls into his pillow, quieting a soft sob.

❖

Something unexpected happened later that month. Killua’s phone _pinged_ several times, specifically 5 times before leaving him to his thoughts. Though he was sure he was practically a ghost, he was _also_ sure that he blocked Gon’s number. He must’ve forgotten. Or somehow Gon got a new phone and was harassing him with it. Killua’s surprised that lump could even remember phone numbers.

Anyway, further to the point, Gon had asked to meet up with Killua for a talk about how things had ended between them. Killua didn’t want to talk about it, it was the last thing on his mind along with the dread of seeing the guy face-to-face. He doesn’t want to fall in love all over again.

But somehow he’s now waiting for said hunter in Shalron’s Cafe downtown, sitting at the corner table that hugs the panoramic window. His eyes dart in and out of the glaze, searching the sidewalk for Gon Freecss. He feels like a mess; his heart is boxing his other organs and there’s sweat gathering in his palms -- he spent a good twenty to thirty minutes thinking about what to wear. _Why do I still care? I shouldn’t_ \-- that’s what he’d say if you asked him.

Killua fiddles with the cuffs of his oversized sweater. Alluka was right. She _did_ try and compromise a little. She knew that seeing Gon would both be beneficial to Killua and a wrong step in his recovery.

He ignores the _dingly-ding_ of the bell as another customer shifts into the warmth, not once lifting his faded eyes from the salt and pepper that occupy the centre of the tabletop. There’s a fear of seeing Gon, a great, great fear. And also he doesn’t want to puke out his nervousness as they’re talking.

A pair of thighs greet the side of the table. A cold sweat drenches Killua. A hand presses flush adjacent to the embossed table number. He recognises those hands; the fingernails are chewed and the knuckles are blushing. They could have been anybody’s hands, but Killua knows Gon’s hands when he sees them.

“Killua?”

_This was a bad idea._

Gon sits down in the opposing seat and shuffles forward, muttering a sorry to the couple behind him, folding his arms. Killua feels a betraying heat scatter across his cheeks.

There’s silence all but for Gon’s tampered breathing. He must have been rushing. He _is_ twenty-seven minutes late.

“At least talk to me if you won’t look at me. Please?” He sounds pleading.

“You’re late,” Killua replies.

“Sorry about that, my train was delayed. Some accident on the main rail with a poor drunkard who stepped out onto the tracks.”

Killua scoffs.

“Have you already ordered?”

“No. I was waiting for you. Didn’t want my drink to get cold.”

“Right. What would you like? I’m paying?” Gon flips out his wallet from his back pocket, sifting through the leather partitions for a tenner. Still very generous.

“Just a hot chocolate, please.” Killua says.

“Okay.”

Gon jogs up to the cashier. Killua pulls up enough courage to peer at Gon’s legs as he speaks to the cashier, his feet fidgeting. If he pays enough attention to his limbs he can see them tremble. Maybe Gon, too, had the thought that Killua might change his mind and walk back home, he wouldn’t have been surprised. But Killua’s still here. Maybe Gon’s just excited to talk again.

He returns quicker than Killua expects with their drinks on a circular tray, passing the hot chocolate under Killua’s nose and the tea under his own, then settles the tray down against his chair leg.

“I asked for the extra sprinkles,” Gon beams but Killua’s eyes are still hidden behind his bangs. It doesn’t matter because Killua can hear the smile behind his voice. If he looks at him now he might be pushed back to the wall.

“Thanks.” Killua doesn’t want to admit he’s pushing back the instinctive curl of the lips, instead distracting himself by pushing the chocolate-sprinkled squirty-cream into the swirls of dull, rosy-brown. His chest flutters when he acknowledges that Gon’s wearing his special body perfume -- he only ever wore it when they went out on public dates, his grin would always emerge if Killua ever commented on his nice aroma, pushing with a cocky, _I’m glad you like it, Killua. It’s cute that you notice things like that,_ that would encourage an uproar of hot colour from Killua’s face.

“You look really nice today.”

_Dear God. He’s noticed. Of course he’s gonna say something about it._ Killua expects a tease but he’s surprised when nothing else comes out, realising that Gon is waiting for his response.

“Oh, thanks. You too.”

“Killua, you haven’t even looked at me.”

“I don’t need to look at you to know that you look nice.” Killua raises his voice. Gon’s speechless and somewhat flattered. The latter rolls up his sleeves. “So tell me what made you so keen on talking to me?”

The _clink-clank-clink_ that his spoon makes against the ceramic mug fills in the absence of conversation for that idle minute. Killua lifts his chin to absorb Gon’s being here. Gon’s always been a shade of tan but the colour drains from his face.

“You’ve… lost weight. A lot of weight.” Gon’s hollow eyes - what were once so lovely to lose himself in - feel as though they are burning Killua’s face with cigarette butts. He tries to consume all of Gon as he sits with stiff shoulders and cracked lips. The furrow in Gon’s brow noticeably deepen into ravines. Then came the bombardment of questions. “Have you not been eating? What has Alluka said about this? She’s been helping, right? Have you seen anybody about this? A counsellor? Killua? Haven’t you been able to sleep? Your cheekbones are really sticking out, I’m really worried-”

_“If you’re worried then you should’ve worried a lot sooner!”_

_Take a breath. In. Out. Count to twenty if not ten._

“I can’t read your mind, Killua!”

_Damnit, I’m gonna cry._

“I don’t want to talk about this _here_.”

Gon deflates. “Okay. I’m sorry I pushed you.” There are eyes on them. “How about we go to your apartment? I get… this is a bad step altogether but I’d like to…” Gon can’t finish his train of thought. Killua shakes his head, wiping away a bead from the corner of his eye.

“My apartment is fine. Let’s just finish these drinks first, otherwise I’ll feel bad for possibly storming out on a free drink.”

❖

The key refuses to slide into the lock. Killua curses under his breath. Gon leans in over his shoulder. _Will it go in?_ He says. Killua growls then shuffles with the three other keys that jangle from his stress. He sifts through one by one until the door finally accepts one of them and swallows the men in its belly. Alluka’s not home -- there’s a note on the kitchen fridge hanging from a photo magnet of Killua and his sister at the beach (that was the weekend were Killua got burnt and got teased until he reversed to sheet-white).

When he searches for Gon, he finds the man wandering around. His steps are very slow; tentative, even, led by his curious nose and a burning interest. Killua waits for a comment but doesn’t get one. It’s like Gon’s never once stepped foot in his ex-boyfriend’s apartment, but he certainly has -- many times. He’d come around and they’d watch movies together, make out on the couch and then shuffle into Killua’s room to have sex. All while Alluka wasn’t there of course. Dear God, Killua would rather be dead in a grave than have his sister present at an intimate time.

Gon’s dipped into Alluka’s room. Not fully, he’s just leaning in through the crack of the door. Whilst Killua’s back is turned he opens the door to Killua’s room. He hesitates.

“Can I go in?”

Killua scoffs gently. “Sure. It’s a mess. My room is your room, remember?”

Gon catches the sarcastic raise in one of his ex’s eyebrows, silently questions it but steps in anyway.

“Are you hungry?” Killua calls from the kitchen.

“Famished! If that’s alright with you, of course.” Gon hollers back.

“It’ll just be a banana sandwich then, I don’t have much,” Killua says, talking more to himself than he is to the latter. He’s aware Gon might be sifting through his personal stuff but he doesn’t give a toss. Gon will just have to bear the brunt of a sardonic glare for the rest of the evening -- if he was lucky to stay that long.

Gon takes his sweet time recapping the memory of Killua’s bedroom. It smelt like him, he has this pleasant aroma about him in addition to the coconut shampoo he uses on those silver tufts. A smile broadens in juncture to the photographs pinned up on the corkboard that hangs at the desk, scattered with loose pages of paper. A pile of unopened letters are stacked next to the pen pot. The chest is the next thing that catches Gon’s attention; to his surprise it’s been pushed so haphazardly against the skirting board that it’s made a crack in the white-glazed wood. Upon dragging it out to the rug and pushing open the lid (he’s no stranger to this treasure chest, it was a keepsake for both of them during the relationship at its bloom), he feels himself stiffen.

Killua plates Gon’s lunch. His lithe silhouette glides like ducks on water in the path Gon took into the room. Down by the bed, on his knees, with the light - separated by the blinds - decorating his turned back, Gon sits with his head down. He hasn’t seemed to have heard Killua come in. His head soon snaps around when the door creaks (it always creaks when it aligns with the wall).

A letter sits in his hands.

“You kept all my letters?”

Killua shoves back a look of _‘and?’_ , his shoulders rolling into a shrug. “Yeah.”

“I thought…you’d surely burn everything after what happened.” The man’s eyes have reconnected with the contents of his own handwritten letters.

“Then you’re more of a fool than I’d thought.” Killua places the plate down at Gon’s knees and slumps onto the cot that still awaits to be made properly. Sometimes when Alluka’s home she cleans Killua’s room, leaving his favourite snacks on his desk.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Some nights I don’t sleep and just write everything down to try and picture it with a clear head, but sometimes I end up passing out. I think I’ve spent more time thinking than actually eating and sleeping and working.”

Killua’s watching the cars on the bypass. “You and me both.”

Gon resumes. “Anyway… I wanted to properly apologise for being such a meathead. I think- No, I was consumed by my own problems when we were living apart. We had that talk though, right? When the job first came up. We talked a lot that night about what we should do. I think it would’ve been okay if I’d come back, but after Mito…

After Mito went into hospital with her illness, I couldn’t see straight. I know you were trying to help. I know I should’ve taken that flight to come be with you -- I’m not entirely sure _why_ I chose to stay put. I mean, thinking about it now, I must’ve been such a fucking idiot to -”

“That’s what I’m here for!” Killua shakes his head. “Gods, even after calling you, you still wouldn’t fucking listen -- we could’ve avoided all of this bullshit-”

“I know, Killua, but-”

“And then you wouldn’t reply to my letters or phone calls all of that spring, I was beginning to think that you were dead! _Dead!_ ”

Killua sobs, wiping the first few tears before he had to use his sleeves. Gon comes forward to touch him but he halts when he’s met with Killua’s back.

“You _knew_ I could take it, you fucking _knew_. Don’t sit here and preach to me like you’re some fucking wise guy. What is it that _Leorio_ can do that _I_ possibly can’t? Huh? Gon, I loved Mito too. You’re not the only one who was grieving for her. Alluka loved her, too -- _Jesus_ , she was distraught when she found out about the funeral, fucking bawling in my lap for weeks, and also knowing we couldn’t afford to go because of her studies. Let me tell you now; I would’ve booked a flight in a heartbeat had it not been for our situation.” Killua wipes at his runny nose and sniffles. “Do you know what you’ve done to me these past few months? Do you have any fucking _inkling_? I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t _go_ _anywhere_ without seeing you in a crowd or hearing you in my fucking head-- do you know what that’s like? Walking through a subway and seeing your fucking _ghost_? I had some lady thinking I was point blank crazy. I’ve cried so much that I’m surprised this room hasn’t been flooded already. I can’t move on after a _text message_ about assuming I could be happier without you. How _dare_ you. You could’ve at least called me or flown over to tell me to my face! Christ, I could step out into moving traffic and not give a single _damn_.”

There are a lot of tears and there’s a lot of screaming, a lot of ranting and raving and fists that are thrown at the window, a lot of apologising and crying and bawling before they’re standing again, Killua’s fists pounding on Gon’s chest and Gon with his hands cupping Killua’s red face and hushing his fit until he has his arms around Killua and Killua sobbing heavily into Gon. There’s a lot of ‘ _I miss you so much’_ , a lot of _‘I can’t stand this any longer,’_ a lot of _‘I love you,_ ’ over and over and over again until silence reigns. Gon sways from side to side, crooning and stroking Killua’s untidy hair.

“It’s okay now. I’m here.”

There’s a whisper that tickles his neck.

_You should’ve been here sooner._

❖

“I’m sorry for doubting you,” Gon says as they lay tangled in each other like holly bushes, stroking Killua’s head and watching the soft tufts slither and spring between the gaps of his fingers. He can’t remember what time it is.

He’s met with silence. Killua sniffles, staring with hooded eyes into his ex boyfriend’s chest, mesmerised by the rise and fall and lulled by the hand in his hair. He didn’t expect this to happen. Knowing how stubborn Gon is, he would’ve thought that the guy would’ve put up a fight about talking things through -- though that would’ve gone against his reasoning for meeting up with Killua that day. But Killua’s intentionally not throwing him out of his flat for the reason that this is the first time he’s been in a room with Gon in a year of distance. He misses his scent and his presence when he’d wake up in the morning. He misses all the fuzzy intimate shit partners do and he’s quite fed up of coddling a teddy bear; the real deal has been wanted. It could still _be_. 

Killua’s done a lot of thinking in the time that they’ve laid there waiting for either one to talk. A lot of going over the missed calls and blanked texts and how the fuck this ever came to be. Killua’s done things he’s not proud of. Gon has done things he’s not been happy with. The problem comes from their lack of communication and honesty. Secrets, always secrets following them around. Secrets that Killua had bumped into an ex and fell into a spiral of regret and guilt. Secrets of Gon’s crumbling self-esteem and his denial to face their problems head-on.

“Are we not ready?” Gon questions, sweeping Killua’s bangs behind his ear. “Do you think we’ve learned anything from when we…?”

Killua doesn’t know how to respond or what may be the right thing to come back with. It’s easy to block everything and try and carry on with blindfolds and placid smiles. It’s the addressing part that’s the most troubling.

“I don’t know. You’d think we’d be old enough to properly sort this shit out already…”

“Yeah.” Gon chuckles.

“I had a...rebound.”

“A what?”

“I slept with somebody.”

“Wait, what? During us or-”

“No you idiot. After. Jesus.”

Gon struggles to swallow the pill. “W-Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“First of all, I didn’t want to speak to you and second, it’s none of your goddamn business about what I do with my life.”

“Why are you telling me _now?_ ”

“Because we’re _talking_ about it. That’s what you’ve been saying.”

The air grows cold. The caressing has stopped. Killua feels like his legs are turning into ice. An uncomfortable silence looms as though a dark figure was looming over them with gaping sockets, just staring.

“I’m so sorry, Killua, I-”

A dry choke breaks the tension, Killua looks up to see his ex crying.

“I didn’t mean- I-I never intended for you to--to-”

Killua’s the one rubbing his back now.

“It’s okay. It’s just a thing that happened.”

“S-So… what now? What do we do?? Killua?” He trembles, lip quivering, cheeks feverous and his eyes globing. “You still love me, right? Right?? I-I mean, we were doing so,” he pauses to wipe his nose. “So great before I took the job with Leorio. I still love you, I’ve never stopped loving you, Killua, and--and I don’t think I can handle losing you forever. Is there a chance for us?? I-I’d really like there to be, I messed up really bad, Killua, I know I did and I want to fix things properly -- I just-just need time and- and…”

Gon’s taking this harder than Killua imagined. There have only been so many times where he’s seen the man crying his heart out, but not this messily, not so… desperately. He really does want to make things right.

Killua watches him fall apart like shattered china. He’s reminiscent of the hopeless haze in Gon’s eyes, the light missing from his bubbly character. Gon wails; sobs loud and haphazardly into Killua’s chest; balls his fists in Killua’s jumper; chants and chants and chants _“I’m so sorry-- I-I’m so sorry!! I love you, I love you, I love you so much, Killua- Killua!! Uuuaaahhh!! Killua!! I love you, I don’t wanna lose you, don’t wanna lose you, Killua..!”_

You’d be a fool to think Killua’s moved on. He’s barely even stepped into the light, hasn’t been _wanting_ to make the push. Gon is his home, his everything, the safety that kisses him in the morning with bad breath and scrubs his back down in the bath and cooks pancakes for him every morning. He has a life with Gon that he’s not willing to let fall apart for definite, and he knows Gon is aware of that, but who’s to say with his concerning doubt.

There are always going to be stumbles in a relationship. You just have to have the willingness, trust and devotion to patch it together and move on until the next issue comes along.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd spent a while writing this, working in the very early morning. Apparently that's when my writer's brain kicks in. There's no secrets about what this is based on (I guess if you know me personally). I wanted to dig into my head and pull something out - get anything written down to express myself. Fortunately, Killua and Gon have been able to give me that little push.
> 
> The ending was a tough nut to crack. I think if I ever want to continue this somehow, I'll be adding a sequel whenever it fits.
> 
> Thank you to Sol, munen, and everybody else (apologies if I've forgotten to mention who!) who read and helped edit this piece! I really appreciate your kind words and advice, and now I'm happy to have finally written something serious and worth while.


End file.
